To Come Undone
by Hedonistic Opportunist
Summary: Sasuke is gone, and there's nothing else left. NaruSasu. Vignettish.


**To Come Undone**

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Never will.

_Notes: _

Funnily, this little ficlet took me five attempts, until I finally conjured a version that I liked – or found acceptable. Heh. It stills sucks. I just wanted to experiment with style, try to write something that is not overbearing, but still descriptive. It is a very subtle piece of work, but fails at having a punchline. It's more a vignette than anything. Criticism -- actually any kind of comment -- would be appreciated.

* * *

It's blood-chillingly, nerve-wrackingly cold outside. Too fucking cold – so cold he wants to swear his lungs off, spit into someone's face and break bones. But it's futile; the weather doesn't conform itself to human needs. Ever and you're fucking bloody nuts if you think it will.

Naruto fumbles with the keys in his pocket, searching forlornly and only stumbling upon rolled up bits of paper, broken pencils and a penny. Groaning with frustration, his body shaking at the biting frost and feeling that he'll die, freeze to ice, Naruto curses under his breath. He can't stand here any longer; the cold wind blowing against his face is like a slap. Each slap stings his skin viciously – and it feels like he's being cracked open, one by one until his insides will come apart.

Finally, after what seems like some countless hours grasping in the dark, he hears the familiar jingle of keys and pulls the object out, glad to be able peruse it.

"Damn took long enough," he whispers – or rather remarks loudly, audible enough for the skittering cats trying to nabsome edibles from the dustbin to make a run for it. However, he doesn't hear them, doesn't hear anything save his own rapid breathing, the sound of the door opening wide and the familiar buzzing of the fridge. There's a short-lasting click when he turns the light on and a clock ticks in its usual monotonous accord. That's all.

Otherwise, it's silent and remarkably empty, like in one of those horror films. The calm before the storm, the tranquillity before the chaos or something like that. He doesn't give a damn: the silence is irking. It makes his blood boil and, in order to squash it, he hums. Hums to some song he's heard ages ago, but can't remember the lyrics to anymore – they're all muddled up in his head, stashed in with other fuzzy souvenirs he doesn't need anymore. He doesn't want to remember because the truth just fucks with you. And there's nothing nice in that.

Some time before the clock strikes twelve, he goes to bed. The bed is cool and the sheets are heavy – getting underneath the bedsheets is a bit like drowning. It's like falling deeper, deeper into the unknown and there's no air left in his lungs. He feels like suffocating, going to the dogs. Darkness is approaching.

But instead of dying, he just closes his eyes. And falls asleep.

* * *

Sasuke is warm. Not sweaty-stickily warm, but he's warm. His breath against Naruto's cheek is warm, nearly hot and his hands are warm, so warm that Naruto likes to hold them on cold winter nights. It keeps his teeth from sounding like two hammers being slammed against one another. Sasuke, the bastard, doesn't like it and accuses him of trying to turn him into a ninny. Naruto smirks thinking that in some way, Sasuke is a ninny. But he's not going to share this information aloud. His life is precious to him. So, instead, he remarks:

"You're just stupid. Don't be so selfish."

"I'm not selfish. You have cold hands."

"So? You have cold feet."

"I've always had cold feet."

Naruto cocks an eyebrow and asks:

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"That means you're going to keep running away. Always."

Sasuke slaps him on the head, telling him he's a shit for brains, but Naruto laughs. Heaven knows, there's a slice of truth in his words because he's been running after Sasuke all this time.

"But I finally caught you," he says more to himself than Sasuke.

"Go to sleep, idiot."

Sasuke's getting angry and, being sleepy, he's even fussier than usual. Naruto can't blame him – he knows that Sasuke has been working all day. But he still feels the need to say one thing.

"It's the truth."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Naruto doesn't answer, just kisses Sasuke deeply. His lips are warm too, hot and warm. He likes it when Sasuke kisses him like this – relaxingly and softly, exploring him with a gentleness that's rare. His voice, when he speaks, is gentle as well.

"Now, go to sleep Naruto."

Naruto does. He falls asleep easily enough, though Sasuke is way too loud. He whines and groans, trashes in bed like some beast and, sometimes, kicks Naruto. And he constantly steals the bedsheets from Naruto, leaving him out in the cold. He hates it, but snuggles closer to Sasuke who is warm. That, being with him, like this is nice.

* * *

Naruto's eyes open wide and he sits up frantically. He gasps for breath and, sweating like a pig, digs his fingernails into the sheet. There's no one beside him, nothing, but empty space and the silence growing out of darkness.

He hears the clock tick the same ole' song. But there's nothing else, nothing else, but _again_ the ungainly darkness and silence – taunting and mean.

It's cold again because Naruto, in his sudden awakening, kicked the blanket off of him. He feels the cold, the cool is oppressive and weighs on him heavily. His teeth clatter, he shivers and is forced to make contact with the icy floor. He grabs the blanket from where it's lying and, for an instant, after that, sits still.

If _he_ were here, he'd complain about the cool and urge Naruto to be faster and finally get into bed again, but Sasuke isn't here. He'll never be here again. He's run off and this time, Naruto won't be able to catch him. He can't.

And there's nothing else left.


End file.
